Douaga: the search for Brother Dalton

[Graybeard]

"Why? What purpose could there be in... in defacing a work of art like this?"

"I don't know," Therese answered, "but we may be about to find out. Look at that."

Down below, in the direction of the sinister village called Yona, something odd was happening to the jungle, a disturbance in the trees. It was as if something was making a moving, temporary clearing in the forest that was advancing toward the ridge line. A gap would appear among the trees, then close as another gap took its place twenty feet forward. She could make out a group of what might be men, or at least man-like things, in the moving clearing, marching resolutely toward where she and the rest of the party stood.

"Incoming," she said. "We've got ten minutes to prepare... maybe."

[Browncoat]

Mordan sat on the ground and leaned back, supporting himself with his palms face-down.
"Plenty of time"
Mordan interlaced his toes and cracked them just as most people would crack their fingers. He yawned as if unconcerned, but beneath his hands, his magic was preparing the ground for use.

[Graybeard]

Therese blinked at what the small man was doing with his toes, but she also sensed magic being manipulated in the area of his hands ... and that gave her an idea. "If we can give ourselves some cover," she said, "we may be able to avoid contact with whoever they are. If you and Argus can do some earth moving, I think I can remember how to manipulate some vines and leaves to give us concealment. I saw a stage show once up north where they did that, and it didn't look too hard for a magic user to do."

Famous last words, she thought, but there would still be plenty of offensive spellpower if push came to shove.

---------

The book that Sister Rose was examining didn't really say much that she didn't already know. Rather the contrary, in fact; it was written from such an obviously Luminositan viewpoint that it might have been used in a comparative-religion class back in seminary and not raised many eyebrows. She'd have learned more from a direct conversation with Brother Miguel.

Growing restless, she set it aside (after a brief magic check to make sure she wasn't missing anything; she wasn't) and found a well-thumbed-over little text on the history of Douaga. Maybe there'd be something more interesting there. "Got anything?" she asked Audie before applying herself to the book; he looked absorbed in his own reading, and it wouldn't be bad to express interest, if for no other reason than to keep him out of trouble.

[Alberich]

Audie had been struggling along through the account of fortresses and ruins on the Southern Continent. It wasn't a very long work. Either there just hadn't been that many significant castles and forts build on this continent, or the Veracian author of this book -- and the Tsuirakuan explorers he'd gotten his material from -- hadn't found them.

When he'd heard Rose investigating a book on "fertility cults" he'd been hoping for something a little spicier than this, for preference with pictures. But in this one, even the short section on "elf ruins" didn't have any of that. Ther were diagrams and reproductions here but nothing to send blood rushing to the cheeks of the most innocent Veracian child. Or to any other part of his body.

So he flipped around to different sections in a desultory way. He'd told the truth that he'd been "learned his book" but his patience with long stretches of dry text was limited. But then, as he flipped, he saw a page had been folded over (they'd never let him do that with one of the Mission's books!) at the beginning of a section on the abandoned fortress of Hugan.

Hugan, apparently, was a double-walled, clifftop castle built around an ancient observatory. It overlooked a harbor that had long since been choked up with silt. A trading company from the Northern Confederacy with some Tsuirakuan backing had taken up residence there some fifty years earlier, and had gone broke restoring the place before their enterprise got off the ground. In the process of digging new cellars around the foundations of the original observatory, they'd come upon some much older excavations that no one could identify. These included the beginnings of a tunnel stretching away to the south, but this had collapsed to the point that significant mining operations would be needed to get it open. There was some strange writing on the walls, in symbols unknown to Veracia, and one of the few illustrations in the chapter was a reproduction of that writing.

To Audie this was as boring as an extra-long Wednesday service, but right next to the illustration was a handwritten marginal note, quite possibly by Brother Dalton himself. (Shame on him! - writing in the Mission's books would've meant a Smiting for Audie.) It had too many abbreviations for the novice to make it out. He'd been puzzling over it when Rose spoke.

"Ma'am," he said, "there be some writin' on the side of this page here..."

[Graybeard]

Sister Rose set aside the Douagan history. "Well done! Let me see that, please." She turned to look at the page that Audie was studying, and Sister Helen also came over to look at the book.

It was handwriting, all right, but there was something odd about it. For one thing, she couldn't make sense of the cryptic notation, any more than Audie could. For another, the style of the writing itself was unusual. It certainly wasn't written in a hand anything like what she and countless other Veracians had been taught as children. Yet it seemed somehow familiar. I've seen that hand before, she thought, but I can't remember where. Let me set it aside and have the back of my mind work on it. "Any idea where this 'Hugan' place is?" she asked Helen.

"No idea," the other nun replied. "Let me see your translator and I'll ask our guide." She accepted the gadget from Rose and stepped outside, to where the mushroom man was waiting. No more than a minute or two later, she returned. "He's not sure either, but he thinks it might be somewhere up on the north coast." She rolled her eyes. "He, uh, doesn't think much of the people up there."

That might be something to explore later, Rose thought, but first things first. "How about this writing? You've presumably seen Dalton's handwriting. Did it look like this?"

Helen stared at the scrawl. "No, nothing like that at all. He had a very common, meticulous way of writing." (Rose noticed the use of the past tense; Helen didn't think this search was going to succeed.) "This looks like it was written by somebody older than we are, the style is what they used to teach long ago in--"

Rose's eyes suddenly got big, and she interrupted. "Now I know where I've seen that before." She spoke one more word into the air, knowing it wouldn't mean much to anyone in the room, but to those up on the ridge, it would be meaningful indeed.

"Blaise."

[Drusia]

I stand back with Anfisa and let the others work on our shelter. If those... figures are human, or close to human, I might be able to do something about them, but only for a short time - and only as a distraction. I've used festival powers offensively when I saved Tim (and myself), but rarely since - and, if it doesn't work, I'll be quite exposed. In more than one sense of the word.

Hopefully the shelter will work and I won't have to find out.

-- Desiree

[Drannin]

Argus stretched his arms out wide. "What do you need? I can manipulate the very earth if you like, and give us some shelters. They'll never even know we're here."

[Graybeard]

Something was tickling the back of Therese's mind as she responded to Argus, but first things first. She addressed him and Mordan. "If you earth movers can set up something that looks like a rock pile, with some holes big enough for us to see out of but not for anyone else to see into, and space inside it for the five of us, I think I can get it covered with vines so it's not suspicious. We'd better hurry, though."

I'm missing something here... I can feel it.

[Drannin]

Argus nodded and extended his will into the very earth, opening a depression while piling an innocent-looking wall of rocks around it. The final product was a passable shelter, which they would all be able to see out of while remaining completely hidden.

At least, that was the plan.

[Graybeard]

Thus concealed, the group waited nervously for the arrival of the party approaching from below.

I think I know what's bothering me, thought Therese. If that scary town is really an hour or two's hike from here, how did this group get here so fast? There shouldn't have been time for them to organize a force to come after us, particularly since they're coming uphill and wouldn't be traveling as fast as we'd be going down. Did someone alert them that we were coming? Who?

She was still pondering that question as the tree canopy parted and the group from below came into view.

They were human enough, as far as could be told. There were four men and two women, all dressed in the botanically-based shirts and pants that were nearly universal on the Southern Continent. One of the women appeared to be the leader; she was carrying a wooden (of course) staff entwined with some ivy-like greenery, and flowers were woven into her hair. Two of the men were carrying, suspended from a pole between their shoulders, a large bag-like construct made of huge leaves folded onto each other. Therese took a closer look at this cargo ... and her blood suddenly ran cold.

I know what's in that thing, and I bet I know what they're going to do with it.

As if to confirm her thinking, the bag shook, and a faint, distinctly human cry issued from within it.